This is a print version of story In the Wild by bluejeangirl1960 from

In the Wild

Fiction - well the masturbation part is, the rest is memories of real experiences.

In the Wild

My daydream today seems to be counter to the weather.
It’s raining.

But if I close my eyes I can feel the sun on my face as I stand at the crest of a mountain.

Looking around I see mountains and valleys, the forest and of course the road I drove in on. I didn’t pass a single car once I took the logging road off the highway; he and I found this spot once when we were just out driving. I think that day my jeans were off and I was bent over that log with my hair fisted in his hand within five minutes of getting out of the car. He didn’t even take his jeans off, simply opened the fly and pulled his cock out. He fucked me with no thought to my own pleasure; he needed to fulfill a wild need that was almost feral, something about the view and the clean cool air I suppose.

Luckily for me my clit continually bumped against a knot on the log and when I heard a low growl come from deep within him I exploded in orgasm just in time to milk every drop of come from him.

So here I am today, alone.

I stand and look out over the mountains; the clouds form a thin misty veil over some of the peaks. I can almost feel the swirl of that mist cross my face. Impulsively I take off my shirt and stand still feeling the cool air wrap around my torso. I lift my head skyward and listen hard; do I hear anything other than the sounds of the forest? The question is answered in the sound of the breeze in the trees, the birds chirping and I think perhaps I hear a chipmunk chattering.

I pull off my bra, I don’t even bother to unhook it, just pull it right over my head. My nipples immediately tighten; the breeze is cool even though the sun is warm. Spreading my arms wide, almost like wings, I again lift my face to the sun and stand for a moment not moving. A shadow passes over my face and my eyes fly open unsure what it could be. I give a startled laugh as the Red Tailed Hawk circles above me; I’m being watched by a bird!

Being watched can be a good thing.

I again listen intently, still answered by only the forest sounds; I sit down on the log. Removing my hiking boots seems to take too long; now that I’ve decided to do this I’m raging with need. Finally getting the boots off the socks follow even though I know I’m going to hurt my feet.

A little pain can be a good thing.

I can feel dampness in my panties and hurry to remove my jeans and the panties follow quickly. There, I’m naked in a mountain range and all alone. I feel joyous and feral all at the same time. I spread my legs slightly, resume my wings and again slant my head back to gather the wild into me.

I can almost feel his hands on me, caressing here, pinching there. And then the sting of the branch across my ass. I hadn’t heard him break it off and so was startled with the first strike. But my cunt gushed with it and the following strikes. When he pushed me over that log again and fucked me again, he toyed with each welt, a reminder of what we had done.

Today there will are no strikes and no welts, but the memory settles well.

Slowly lowering my arms I look to the log, more bark has fallen off in the years since I was here last. It’s almost smooth now and a slight flush crosses my cheeks as I see the knot is still there.


I throw my leg over the log and scoot into the knot. My clit already engorged from the memories that had flooded me with my return to the mountain. I almost come just from the first touch of the knot, but bite my lip and back off. It would be no good to come so fast.

So instead I concentrate on breasts and nipples for the moment. Feeling their weight in my hands as I squeeze and press which makes my nipples harden even more. I tug and pinch my nipples, imagining rings and chains to be pulled and tugged.

Slowly I find myself rocking against the log and again scoot into the knot. This time, though I could throw myself over the edge easily, I feel more in control. I can feel some bark on my inner thighs which feels like nails being d**g back and forth over my heated flesh. This causes a quiver deep inside and a soft gasp crosses my lips. I stretch my arms out in front of me, grasping the log like a giant cock and begin to rock just a bit faster.

My nipples sc**** against the log, one is on smooth wood and the other is on bark. One takes a smooth tongue and the other takes the bites of teeth. I think if I looked down I would see that my labia has filled and puffed and now lie completely outside the knot.
I have no doubt that slick wetness coats the knot and I stop rocking and begin to grind.

There is a fine line between pain and pleasure and masturbating on a log it’s easy to cross over unexpectedly.

A little pain can be a good thing.

I imagine the picture from someone else’s eyes; a naked woman, her chestnut hair falling about her face as she holds this giant cock log in her hands and humps like a feral being. The thought of being watched sends me over the edge and I have the fleeting thought that I wish something; anything was crammed deep in my cunt. I can’t help but cry out, and I hear my voice echo across the valleys. The orgasm is long and intense; I didn’t know I could have this kind of orgasm alone.

Slowly I regain my senses, as the feral part of me slides off into the woods and the quiet joyous part of me takes hold. Turning my head away from the mountain view and toward the forest I’m startled to see a man. My blush quickly spreads from just cheeks to my entire face and even a hint of my chest. Our eyes meet and I see his lips move.
“Thank you”
I can’t hold his gaze, fuck I’ve just been caught masturbating in the woods, and my eyes start to drop.

They freeze when they reach his crotch. He’s holding his softening cock in his right hand.

Watching can be a good thing.
Being watched can be a good thing.

A smile tickles the corners of my mouth as I raise my eyes back to his. I give him a very delicate nod of my head and turn my face back to the mountains. I hear him move through the forest as I find myself slowly rocking on that log again.

© BJG Jan 2010

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